Chapter 22
22
J J’s execution is scheduled for tomorrow at noon.
He doesn’t think he’s supposed to know about it yet. No one has told him in so many words, at least. But the halls with the interrogation rooms are set up in a circle around the interrogators’ break room, and he can occasionally hear snatches of conversation when the door to his room is left ajar.
It happens more often than he would’ve expected?—namely, when the infirmary’s spellcasters are here between interrogation shifts. He knows from Roma that these interrogation rooms aren’t completely magic-proof, but they do dampen spellcaster’s abilities. Leaving the door cracked makes it easier for them to use their magic, easier for them to cast their spells??—
Easier for them to heal JJ’s injuries. They’re giving each interrogator the opportunity to torture JJ from scratch, providing a blank canvas to cut open every time.
Honestly, he doesn’t even think the interrogators are really trying to get answers anymore. He’s pretty sure they’re just enjoying hearing him scream. Nostrand isn’t the only person in the Redwater Sanctum who despises neophyte hunters, after all.
Now, though, it’s been longer than usual since he was last healed, and his next interrogator has yet to arrive. Are they going to give him one last night in peace before he’s burned alive? Somehow, he doubts it. Are they trying to psych him out, to make it worse when the torture begins again? More likely, but it’s a strange tactic for a man on death row. Or are they??—??
The door finally creaks open. JJ glances over to size up his next torturer and immediately regrets it.
Chester’s face is even paler than usual under the harsh lights. “Hey, JJ.”
JJ swallows hard. Doesn’t answer.
A muscle twitches in Chester’s jaw. Gently, he shuts the door behind him. “Nasir says you won’t talk. Seems to think I might have better luck.”
JJ keeps his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Tries to keep his breathing steady. “Technically, you are the only interrogator who’s ever gotten a confession out of me.”
“You lasted nine hours.” Slowly, Chester walks over to JJ. Sets a manila folder down next to his tools and leans his hip against the interrogation table. “The Council was really proud of you.”
JJ’s chest hurts. The fact that the Council sent in Chester, his best friend, means that they’ve already written him off. They don’t think JJ is going to talk, not at this point.
They just want to punish him as brutally as possible before they burn him alive. “They were really proud of you, too,” JJ says quietly. “You did a really good job. It takes a lot of skill to interrogate a friend, and you?—you did really well.”
“I didn’t want to do that.” Chester’s voice is soft. “Any more than I want to do this now. I?—I actually tried to refuse this assignment. First time I’ve ever done that. The Council said no, of course, but…”
“I appreciate that,” JJ says evenly. “I’m not really looking forward to it, either.”
“Then give me something, JJ.” Chester leans into his space, forcing JJ to meet his gaze. “Why are you protecting them?”
JJ clenches his jaw. Looks away.
“Do the demons have something on you? Hm? Did you accidentally kill a bystander during a mission, and now they’re blackmailing you? If they’re threatening you, Jayj, we can fix it. I promise we can.”
Despite himself, JJ almost smiles. “I’ve seen you promise that to other dissidents before. Never seen you deliver.”
Chester’s eyes narrow. “You’re not other dissidents, JJ. You’re my friend. You’re my brother. I don’t want to hurt you.”
JJ lets out a slow breath. Squeezes his eyes shut. “I believe you.”
“Then help me out here. I can talk down your sentence, okay? I just need a bargaining chip. Tell me about the Chain.”
And JJ knows that he shouldn’t keep talking. He knows that he shouldn’t even engage, knows that interrogators are trained to read between the lines, but??—
But this is Chester, damn it. JJ owes him this much, at least. “I don’t know anything about the Chain. If I did, I’d tell you.”
Chester’s eyes flicker. “It’s personal, then. Something with the kid and Cassius Chin.”
And that’s exactly why JJ shouldn’t have opened his stupid mouth in the first place. He fixes his eyes back on the ceiling and doesn’t answer.
“I don’t want to ask about the little girl.” Chester’s voice is gentle. “I get it. She looks like Lucy. If a demon looked like one of my little brothers, I’d probably get attached, too.” His eyes harden. “Tell me about Chin.”
“He’s kind of a dick. Don’t know why you’d want to talk about him.”
“Because I don’t want to smell the smoke any more than you do,” Chester says, an edge creeping into his voice. “Cassius Chin is one of the most dangerous demons on the East Coast. Give me information about him, and I can use that to appeal to the Council.”
“He has a fondness for churros con chocolate,” JJ says. “Specifically from Churrería?—you know, that demon-owned food truck at Lakeside? They’re actually really good.”
“Jackson,” Chester snaps, his eyes flashing. “I’m trying really hard to keep you alive here, okay? I’m trying??—?”
And then, abruptly, he cuts himself off. Slowly, his head tilts to one side in a way that makes JJ’s blood run cold.
Somehow, he said more than he should have.
“I told you I didn’t want to take this job,” Chester says eventually, “and that’s true. Doesn’t mean I didn’t do my research, though.” He rifles around in the manila folder, pulls out a photograph, and holds it in JJ’s line of sight. “You recognize the kid?”
JJ squints at the picture. It features a vaguely familiar man spinning a little girl up into the air, a little girl with pale skin and blonde pigtails and a missing front tooth in her delighted smile. “No.”
“You recognize the dad?”
“No.”
“You should,” Chester says, and he taps the image. “This is the summoner you killed at the end of December?—the one with the militia near the Redwater–Kingsborough border. The little girl is his daughter, Lila. She died of leukemia last October. The demon he summoned took on Lila’s appearance as her human fa?ade.”
All at once, the world goes very quiet around JJ.
Chester watches JJ’s face. “But you never saw this kid, did you? When you fought your way into that barn, the demon was already in its true form. Then, once you offed her summoner, you were suddenly faced with a girl who looked just like your little sister. Almost like the demon poked around inside your head to find the form you were least likely to hurt.” He raises his eyebrows. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
JJ’s heart is pounding in his throat. He doesn’t answer.
“So the little demon manipulates you into sparing her,” Chester says, his voice sharp and precise, “and then Chin gets involved. What’d he say? That you could still visit her if she stayed with him? That you could raise her together?” He hesitates. “And then he changed tactics, right? Said that he’d take care of you if you defected? That the three of you could have your own little family on the outside?”
Well, that’s easy. Defect from the Sanctum and come live with us.
“And then you’d be completely reliant on him. Entirely under his power. He’d cut you off from us, from the people who care about you, and trap you somewhere you couldn’t escape. He could do whatever he wanted to you, and you wouldn’t be able to stop it. None of us would.” He takes a deep breath. “And I researched what he might do to you, too. Have you ever heard of a soul bond?”
“No.” JJ’s voice sounds numb in his own ears. “I haven’t.”
“In its most basic form, a soul bond is a connection between two souls. Remember from spellcasting class that human souls have higher energy, but demon souls are more powerful? Well, demons can harvest a human’s soul energy through one of these bonds to vastly increase their own power. But it’s a spell that generally requires both parties to consent.” Chester pauses. “So it’s also known as the most common reason for a demon to seduce a human.”
JJ tastes bile. Swallows hard.
Chester keeps talking. “Usually, the demon consumes the human in one shot. Energy flows quickly from the human soul to the demon soul?—high energy to low energy?—so unless they’re working with an especially skilled spellcaster who can break the connection in time, the human almost always dies. And that?—that’s honestly the best-case scenario. Hypothetically, a demon could feed off a human’s soul for decades, always letting them recover just enough to replenish their energy before draining them again.” He hesitates. “Chin’s friend Esmeralda Laguerre is a skilled spellcaster. And Obadiah Smith has been alive for long enough to know how to drain a human without consuming them. So that’s probably what they’d do to you.”
JJ’s heart feels raw. “Chester??—?”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Chester repeats. “Cassius Chin might be a master manipulator, but JJ, this is textbook. This is exactly what a demon like him would do?—what all of them would do.” He leans forward. “They already tried to kill us once. Don’t let them finish the job.”
And JJ??—
JJ takes a shuddering breath, squeezes his eyes shut, and thinks.
Thinks about the obvious dislike on Cass’s face when they first met in DJ Ice Cream, and how long it took for that hatred to wane.
Thinks about the way Cass walked straight into enemy territory when Desi had her nightmare, and how sad he looked when he said that she feels safest with JJ.
Thinks about Cass’s unsure expression when he invited JJ for a movie day at his house, and how that discomfort relaxed over grilled cheese and Wyvern Academy reruns.
Thinks about Cass teasing JJ about the strawberry incident and wearing the pocket watch JJ bought him and giving JJ his last churro and??—
Could Cassius Chin be an especially cunning con man playing the long game? Maybe. But that contradicts even the Sanctum’s own records about him, the ones that emphasize how he attacks first and asks questions later?—and tacitly show that he always fights on the side of the oppressed. And, above all, Cass couldn’t fake how deeply he cared about Desi.
If nothing else, he wouldn’t hurt JJ because that would hurt her. “You’re wrong,” JJ says quietly, and Chester flinches. “I know you don’t believe that, but?—but you’re wrong. And?—?” His throat hurts when he laughs. “And let’s be real. They’re executing me tomorrow no matter what I say. And I’m not saying anything else about them.”
Chester’s breathing sounds shaky. “JJ,” he whispers. “Please don’t make me do this.”
“I’m sorry, Chester.”
“So am I,” he says, and he picks up a scalpel.